


Hot Coffee

by UltraSwagnus



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Office Romance, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sex workers, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 05:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20402185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltraSwagnus/pseuds/UltraSwagnus
Summary: Crowbar of Iacon is a secretary with enough to do at his job as it is. But when the receptionist leaves for vacation, his workload is increased, leaving him more stressed and irritated than usual. Luckily for him, there's someone to help, and he brought coffee.





	Hot Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MooseKababs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseKababs/gifts).

> please enjoy this oc x oc fic that no one asked for. im sure it's going to consume my life like most things.
> 
> Donut belongs to Moosekababs!! <3

Crowbar sat at his terminal and stared at the screen with a most irritated expression. The email that had been sent to him was from the Security Department’s receptionist, and it detailed that they would be out on vacation for the next week. In addition to that email, he had also received one from Department Chief Airstrike, instructing him to reroute the communication line from the receptionist's comm unit to his for the week.

The motorcycle scoffed. He had enough to do already with reports and expenses, among other things. But having to answer the public comm line? He was more than a little less than happy about that. For lack of a better phrase, Crowbar wasn’t a people person. People didn’t like him, and because of that, he tended not to be too fond of them either.

Setting up the communication network was easy enough, being tech savvy and all. But as soon as the link had been established his comm unit began pinging. He muttered to himself in between calls as he attempted to do his own preassigned work before the next ping came through. The way things were looking, he would be having late nights at the office all week long until the receptionist retur—

Another incoming call.

“Satellite Security Department, this is Officer Crowbar speaking.”

He smiled to himself as he said it. It felt good. It felt  _ natural. Officer crowbar. _ It had a good ring to it.

“Hi, this is Platinum Star Pleasures calling to—”

Crowbar hung up. He didn’t have time to play around with prank calls. He had far too much on his plate.

* * *

Hours into his shift and several deleted spam emails from “Star Platinum Whatever” later, Crowbar had finally managed to update and submit reports that would have normally taken half that amount of time had he not been tied up with public calls. He looked at the time and decided that he would be going to his lunch break early. Anything to get away from the incessant pinging.

Before the secretary could even announce that he was about to go on break, the door to the office room slid open at a violent rate. All optics turned to see a burly mech with police decals enter the room. The metal door slid shut behind the pink mech as he strode in.

“I’m looking for Airstrike,” the mysterious mech informed. His voice was soft, yet spoken loud enough for all in the room to hear. Several hands pointed at the door in the back of the room, designated as Airstrike’s office. The large mech made a bee-line for the door but was stopped by a mech nearly half his size. It was Crowbar.

“Now wait just one second!” Crowbar shouted, “What gives you the  _ right  _ to barge in here and demand to see Airstrike?! Do you have an appointment? I think not!!”

“And how would you know,  _ little man?” _

Oooh, this guy was getting on every nerve in Crowbar’s circuit network.

_ “I’m the secretary,”  _ he hissed. 

The room was silent, and the tension between the two mechs was thick enough to be cut with a plasma knife.

“Well, I’m Officer Donut. Now step aside.”

Crowbar stepped to the side, allowing the officer entry into Airstrike’s office. All optics then turned to Crowbar.

“What are you looking at? We have jobs to do, people. Get back to work…”

Eventually, after an awkward silence, everyone did just that. Crowbar immediately went back through his received memos and emails and saw nothing about a visit from any ranking officer. His lunch break would have to wait. Crowbar needed to speak with Airstrike as soon as possible.

And soon it was.

Officer Donut walked back into the room, and optics were glued once again to the hunky, pink stranger. All except for Crowbar who refused to acknowledge him. Just the thought of seeing the color pink irritated him. He was stressed out enough from his newly acquired workload, and being chastised by whoever he was wasn’t something he would allow. Crowbar waited to hear the sounds of those large pedesteps to walk past his desk, but the sound never came. The only thing he heard was that voice, and it almost made him want to fume.

“Which one of you is  _ Crowbar?” _ Officer Donut inquired aloud.

Again, fingers pointed towards his goal, and the large mech turned to his left. Crowbar scowled as he felt the officer’s eyes on him. Crowbar continued to ignore him, staring at anything he could find on his computer screen.

“Are you  _ Crowbar?” _ the pink mech asked him, leaning down into his personal space. Crowbar turned his chair to face him and looked up at the other with a furrowed, metal brow.

_ “Yes,” _ he answered back, folding his arms and crossing one leg over the other. “Can I help you?”

“You’re under arrest,” the muscle car began. Crowbar’s optics grew wide and his back strut straightened in defense. There was no way he was being arrested. What had he done? Impersonate an officer by slipping up his introduction during an audio call? No. That couldn’t be it. The motorcycle’s thoughts were interrupted as he watched Donut pull out some kind of coupon from his subspace and extended it to the smaller mech in front of him. “— _ for not coming to see me.” _

Crowbar, extremely confused, snatched the coupon from him. His optics scanned the stub quickly, and his tank dropped. It was a discounted entry ticket for one of Platinum Star Pleasure’s off-world locations, specifically the one stationed on the Satellite.

“Oh, my god. You’re a hooker.”

“You got it, little man.” Donut said as he winked at him. 

Crowbar rose from his seat before the situation could get any worse.

“I’m going to lunch,” he announced.  
  


* * *

Crowbar charged into the Security Department fully refueled and ready to roll right into Airstrike’s office and  _ demand  _ that something be done about that, that…!

_ That pink menace _ who apparently was nowhere to be seen. Crowbar thanked Primus as he made his way to the main office section where he worked and where Airstrike usually was during her hours there. Crowbar cleared his vocalizer as the door to her office opened.

“Airstrike, I—”

Crowbar’s mouth became agape at the sight before him. His senior officer being given a lap dance by the pink pleasure bot. He didn’t know who he should be more embarrassed for; himself for having witnessed such a blatant breach in office behavior protocol, or for Airstrike for allowing it in the first place.

“Oh, Crowbar,” the jet cleared her throat. “Come in,” she stated, handing Donut a credit slip. The burly mech tipped his helm and proceeded to leave, but not before Airstrike stole a glance at his finely chiseled aft. The seeker shook her head lustfully at the handsome frame leaving her office, then remembered who she was now alone with.

“Crowbar, I know what you’re thinking.”

“I  _ cannot  _ believe this…!!”

“Crowbar—”

“For Primus’ sake, he’s a hooker!!”

“He’s your new assistant.”

“He’s WHAT?!?”

“You’re overburdened. I’ve hired him to help.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s already proved himself to be a big help already, hasn’t he?” Crowbar asked sarcastically, trying not to think about the way the pink menace was gyrating in front of his employer.

“Look, there are some details that are on a need to know basis—”

“If he’s going to be my assistant then maybe I should know what they are.”

“No,” Airstrike asserted. “Just be grateful that I’m not terminating you for giving him such a hard time.”

“Giving  _ HIM  _ a hard time?! As far as I’m concerned  _ I’M _ the one getting a hard time!”

“And as far as  _ I’m _ concerned, you should get back to answer the call lines.”

Crowbar kept his mouth shut, in fear of what he could possibly say to the flier. As he turned to go back to his desk, Airstrike stopped him.

“Oh, and Crowbar, stop addressing yourself as ‘Officer.’”

“...yes, ma’am.”


End file.
